


Break it if it's Yours

by tenrousei_kuroi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 12:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6658585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenrousei_kuroi/pseuds/tenrousei_kuroi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regulus Black has information for the Order, and with any luck he'll be able to get Sirius to listen to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot for a friend of mine on Livejournal. Also Xposted on FF.net with a host of epilogue chapters.

“Sirius,” said Regulus calmly. He held up his hands as though warding off interruption. “No, please just let me speak. After I’m done, you can yell or scream, or hit me, curse me, whatever. I just need to tell you something. It’s about the Dark Lord…”

He took a deep breath.

“Voldemort. It’s about Voldemort. I know you have close connections with Dumbledore, and I need you to get my information to him.”

Regulus took out the fake replacement locket he’d crafted. “The Dark Lord—Volde—…he has a locket just like this and he’s made it into a horcrux, so he can be immortal. A—and that just can’t be allowed to be. It’s wrong. I—I don’t want to serve him anymore and I promise I haven’t killed anyone yet…and I know that’s not enough reason for forgiveness, but I know the location of the real horcrux and if you could make sure they know for me then someone can switch the lockets and destroy it. Call the aurors if you like, but please promise me you’ll tell Dumbledore. No one will trust me, but someone might believe you…”

When he was done speaking, Regulus once again pocketed the locket and after taking several deep breaths, looked up at Sirius. “How was that?” he asked, exhausted.

“Well, better,” admitted Sirius, leaning against his frame. He folded his arms and raised a single, painted eyebrow. “But you forgot to mention what a horcrux _is._ ”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Regulus groaned, hanging his head.

“Yes,” Sirius’s voice continued from the wall. “You need to think of some way to convince him it’s not all a big trap. Maybe you should offer to go get the locket yourself and bring it to them? I have a hard time imagining Sirius doing anything other than hex you to pieces the instant he sets _eyes_ on you.”

Regulus sighed and collapsed back down on his bed. He’d been rehearsing all morning and still couldn’t get it all together right. He was running out of time.

“I sent him a letter and he responded. He’s agreed to meet me at Jun-Ko’s (that’s the muggle bar down the street). He knows I want to talk, and I told him I have information, so…”

Sirius smiled weakly at him. He walked out of his frame and into another one closer to the bed to try and comfort Regulus.

“That’s good, little brother, that’s a really good sign. I just want you to be prepared because the real Sirius isn’t like me, and I’m the only one of us you’ve talked to for years…just, remember that.”

“I wish you were him really,” Regulus murmured. “The real Sirius, even if he listens to me, is going to have me carted off to Azkaban—if I’m lucky.”

Sirius frowned. “Don’t talk like that, Reg. Sirius aside, you’re only sixteen, nobody’s going to send you to the dementors.”

Regulus shook his head. “I’ve been reading the papers. I know the sorts of rights the aurors have under Crouch. Maybe they’ll just kill me outright…”

“You’re not going to die,” insisted Sirius, who now looked fairly alarmed. “If nothing else, Dumbledore will certainly come to your aid on this one. You’re one of his _students_ after all. You don’t need to worry. He and his side _aren’t_ cruel. You’ll be taken care of.”

“No,” Regulus stood up and grabbed his cloak. “I’m beyond that now. But maybe…” He shook his head again. “I have to go now. If I’m late, Sirius will leave and…Sirius?” He turned to the painting on the wall. From it an oil version of his brother stared back at him with cloudy eyes.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Thanks for being there for me…talking to me and such; I really haven’t had anyone else since Dad died. And thank you for convincing me to do this. It’s something I need.” A part of Regulus wanted to skip the meeting with his real brother altogether, lock himself up in his room with his pictures and hide forever.

Not an option.

The picture of Sirius smiled at him. “Be safe, Regulus, please?” he said, a hint of begging to his voice.

Regulus only nodded once and left the room. He had less than half an hour to get to the bar; it might do him good to arrive early and drink something to calm his nerves.

It was one o’clock on a Tuesday. Jun-Ko’s was not busy. It took Regulus less than a minute to find Sirius seated at a clean table. Tentatively he approached the brother he has not spoken to in years, regretting not arriving here first but at the same time not at all surprised that he hadn’t.

Sirius turned to face him abruptly. Regulus had to admit his brother looked a lot better than he did at the moment. Sirius’s face was still full and his hair silky. His joints didn’t crack when he moved, his collarbone wasn’t abruptly noticeable. Regulus could not claim the same; the stress of his impending death had been slowly destroying his body.

“Regulus,” said Sirius neutrally. His neck craned ever so slightly and Regulus knew he was checking to see if Regulus had anyone flanking him. He seemed content and perhaps a little surprised that Regulus had not swooped in with half a regimen of Death Eaters. “You’re a little early.”

Regulus had no want or reason to appear tough in front of his brother. Hanging his head a little, he replied, “I thought you might leave if you had to wait for me at all. I thought maybe if I arrived early I’d have time to get a little drunk so I’d calm down.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Slowly he stood up. “I see…” he said. “Regulus…” he permitted a quick glance around the bar to ensure they were not likely to be heard. “Do you have your wand?”

Sirius had been specific in his letter that Regulus was to arrive unarmed. He had not promised to do the same and Regulus hadn’t blamed him for it.

Regulus shook his head fiercely and held out his arms, inviting Sirius to summon his wand if he did not believe him.

Sirius murmured something under his breath. Perhaps it was nonsense, but Regulus knew better. His brother was whispering an incantation to see if Regulus was telling the truth. “All right then…” he said once he appeared satisfied. “Why don’t you sit down?”

Regulus’s eyes fell to a distant member of the small crowd gathered around the bar’s television somewhere behind his brother; a man who was staring at them intently, and who Regulus recognized. Not that his hopes had been high to begin with, but Regulus’s spirit sank in disappointment nonetheless.

“Would you like to switch me places?” he asked, looking back to Sirius. “So you can face your friend and he can take me out from behind?”

A brief look of panic overtook Sirius’s face. From behind him, Remus Lupin strode forward, seeming to know Regulus had recognized him. The hand hidden in his pocket was surely gripping the handle of his wand.

Regulus gave his brother a pitiful look as the latter surged forward and made to seize him. “I really wanted to talk with just you,” he whispered sadly. There was no escaping now, though, he would just have to hope the Order let him speak and that someone might believe him. Timidly, he held out his hands, wrists together.

“No need for a scene,” he stuttered. Lupin was close enough to take out his wand without drawing attention from the surrounding muggles. “I’ll go with you.”

Sirius inspected his brother briefly, as though searching for some hint of an ulterior motive, but seemed to find none. He bound Regulus’s wrists together, a debatably necessary move since Regulus had no wand and possessed only the tiny amount of upper-body strength his skeletal frame would allow.

“Silencio,” Sirius said quietly, and Regulus felt his voice leave him. He started to panic, shaking. If he couldn’t speak, then he couldn’t convey his information! Was Sirius truly not allowing him even the _chance_ to redeem himself?

“This way,” Sirius pushed his brother discreetly out of the bar, Lupin following close behind. They marched the youngest Black around the corner of the building and pulled him into the tiny shadow below the fire escape.

Regulus braced himself as Sirius gripped what remained of his bicep; they were going to apparate somewhere.

Apparation was never something Regulus had excelled at. He hadn’t even taken his test yet, although he had apparated illegally many times to transport himself to the Dark Lord’s side. He was an incredibly claustrophobic person, and the feeling of being compressed, however briefly, was horrendous for him.

They arrived on the steps of an old, leaning house seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Regulus was a little worse for wear. He teetered unevenly on shaking legs and had to suppress the urge to vomit what little there was in his stomach. To all sides he could see nothing but rolling hills and wheat fields. Despite never having been there before, Regulus had a good feeling this was the home of one of the Dumbledores, most likely Aberforth, and perhaps a potential Order Meeting Place as well.

Regulus got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he realized that neither Lupin nor his brother had bothered to blindfold him. It was not a good sign that they showed such flippancy about Regulus knowing the location of their hideout.

_So they are going to dispose of me,_ Regulus reasoned. Was he really surprised?

“Come on,” said Lupin in a slightly nervous voice. “Inside, I suppose.”

Regulus gave him a sharp look, trying to communicate something along the lines of _What do you think_ you’ve _got to be so nervous about, Lupin?_

Sirius held Regulus close to his side and marched him forward. Regulus’s boots slid impotently along the walkway as he tried vainly to stop their progress. The door of the house was looming closer and Regulus had a feeling in his stomach like a deadweight that if he entered, he would never leave.

“Do I have to knock you out, Regulus?” Sirius growled. Regulus, who had clamped his eyes shut, opened them to see Lupin giving him a pitying look. “Because I will. _Move._ ”

Regulus opened and closed his mouth furiously, trying to scream and yell all at once, but no sound emerged. Instead there was only the sickening feeling that his throat had been clogged with a mound of damp cloths.

Sirius briefly halted their march and pulled Regulus around to face him.

“You wanted to play with the grown-ups so badly. You went off to kill and torture and terrorize for those lunatics—”

Regulus shook his head frantically. _No,_ he needed to scream. _I didn’t do anything like that!_

“—but now that you’ve been caught you want to throw a fit and struggle like a little child? Well you’re not a child anymore, Regulus, so you don’t get to play that card.” Sirius’s grey eyes narrowed. “But if you insist…Remus, get the door for me, please.”

Lupin dashed ahead to unward and open the front door. Sirius took hold of Regulus by his hair and then grabbed his legs out from under him.

Regulus wasn’t sure if he would have yelled or merely squeaked in surprise had he still had a voice to use. Sirius carried him unceremoniously over the threshold with a hand gnarled in his hair the way one might hold the scruff of a disobedient cat. Regulus hoped his jutting hipbones, elbows and ribs were digging into Sirius in the most painful way possible.

“And we’re in,” came Lupin’s voice behind them as he closed and sealed the door. Sirius did not set Regulus down.

The home they had walked into was nice, with soft, shaded lamps and cozy looking chairs in the living room. Everything was dark, but what lights did glow were warm and faintly orange. Down a hall, Regulus glimpsed a small but cozy dining room. Painted plates hung on its wall and all of the chairs had matching red cushions. Down the hall further was a staircase, and it was in that direction that Sirius carried him.

“That’ll be them, do you suppose?” came a voice from the basement.

Regulus heard some indistinct shuffling and then saw a tall woman with black hair and rectangular glasses come dashing up the carpeted stairs, wand outstretched.

“Sirius!” she barked. “Remus…”

“Marlene,” Sirius nodded casually over his brother’s head and Regulus instantly felt stupid for not recognizing the woman sooner. He knew Marlene McKinnon. Not well, but he’d spoken to her in the hall, had run into her several times down Diagon Alley, when he had been shopping for school and she—graduated and settling into a home of her own—had been escorting her younger brother as he did the same.

“I don’t suppose a couple of imposters could have gotten past the wards,” she said cheekily. “Should I quiz you anyway?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “My favorite color is blue, our first Order meeting was a disaster because everyone was drunk, and I no I still won’t go out with you because you’re not only the furthest thing from my type but Remus has a massive thing for you and just imagine how awkward _that_ would make things.”

Sirius strode off down the stairs before Regulus could see Lupin or McKinnon’s reactions, but he could hear Marlene snap back, “Of course I’m not your type. You’re a Black, so your physical attraction to someone goes up directly proportional to how closely related you are…Oh, Remus look at that blush! I suppose that means you’re really you. Come on then, let’s go down and see what Sirius has managed to drag in for us.”

The basement was small, more of a cellar, really, and Regulus felt his claustrophobia flaring up again. His chest started to heave as he glanced frantically around, seeing only concrete walls.

There were racks of wine up against the walls, and a few chairs settled in front of a fireplace, but the center of the room was where everyone was at. Beneath a low-hanging chandelier was a long dinner table. Seated around it were six order members. Regulus recognized James Potter immediately and felt his heart constrict further. Of all the people to witness his death, it had to be James bloody Potter! Was it not enough that Sirius had replaced him with this boy, but now he had to drag Regulus down here to kill him in front of him, too?

_Here, James,_ Regulus imagined was what might be scuttling through Sirius’s head. _Not only are you my favorite brother,_ here, _I’m going to make you my_ only _one, too!_

Regulus groaned to the best of his ability.

The other at the table he didn’t entirely recognize. There was Benjy Fenwick and Alice Longbottom sitting next to the man he presumed was her husband. There was a man who looked like a smaller, fatter version of Regulus _beloved_ headmaster. He figured it was Aberforth. The final was a man with blue eyes and dusky brown hair Regulus felt he had never seen before.

“What have you brought us, Sirius?” asked James Potter, chuckling. Remus had flitted around the table to sit next to his friend.

“Yes Sirius, I’m a bit curious as well,” murmured Aberforth.

Sirius finally dropped Regulus to his feet. His legs tried to collapse beneath him, but Sirius kept him standing.

“I promised you a Death Eater to interrogate,” he said simply. “And that’s exactly what I’ve got.”

“Is that…one of your cousins?” asked Alice, and Regulus felt a confusing stab of hurt in his chest. He knew Alice, truly he did! They had spoken many times. She was a Slytherin, like him. Several years older, of course, but she had been so kind and had on multiple occasions helped him with assignments—especially history because Regulus had always been so dismal at history—it was she who had taken the time to correct his entire essay on the Magical Renaissance during his fourth year (he’d received an O, for god’s sake!) Did she really not remember him?

“My baby brother, actually,” said Sirius with a pronounced sneer that looked ugly on his face. Regulus had never heard his brother sound so cruel before; it seemed off.

Alice nodded in understanding. Aberforth seemed equal parts surprised and impressed.

“Boy,” he said pushing his drink aside. “I thought you meant you had come up with a plan for us to get ahold of one of them, I didn’t know you meant you already _had_ one!”

“Yeah me too,” said Frank, laughing slightly. “I’d have dragged Moody over here if I’d known you were bringing one in live. Dumbledore, too.”

“Moody can have him when we’ve finished,” James said smoothly. “And Dumbledore’d be way too soft with him.”

“And what do you suppose Professor Dumbledore would think of us right now,” said the brown-haired man. “Slinking down here like this to torment this poor kid where the rest of the Order can’t see us?”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Caradoc” reasoned James.

“Yeah and _that poor kid_ is a murderer,” said Marlene.

Regulus shook his head urgently. Sirius smacked him to make him stop.

“I can’t believe I’m letting you use my house for this, my brother’s going to be furious,” sighed Aberforth.

“He’ll forget all about it if we can get him a preview of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s plans.”

“Yes, Frank, I suppose that’s true,” Aberforth admitted. He took a very large drink from the beer stein in front of him. “So Sirius, I didn’t know your brother was a Death Eater.”

Now that he and Sirius were the only ones standing, Regulus felt very exposed, like he was on display.

“Yeah he is,” Sirius said bluntly. “My best guess? He joined up to make mummy and daddy proud of him. He never did know any better than to just think and do whatever anyone told him, and my parents got to him first.”

There wasn’t an ounce of sympathy in Sirius’s voice but the brown-haired man—Caradoc?—was looking at Regulus with distinct sorrow on his face, and seemed constantly on the verge of saying something. Regulus peeked his eyes out from behind his limp bangs and made eye contact with the man. Caradoc looked down.

“Well bring him over here then, Sirius, let’s get started,” said Alice.

Sirius tightened his hands on Regulus’s shoulders and steered him forward. Regulus’s hands were released only to be rebound behind the back of the nearest chair as he was forced into it. The last of his survival instinct kicked in and he struggled wildly, but there were nine of them and he stood no chance.

Once Regulus was restrained, Sirius lounged into the chair next to him and everyone else took their seats again as well.

“You can give him back his voice now, Sirius,” said Frank, who had obviously deduced that Regulus had been magically silenced.

Sirius nodded and returned Regulus’s voice to him. Regulus immediately opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by James.

“When did you join?” he asked harshly.

Regulus redirected his voice to say _earlier last year_ but his vocal chords were sore from disuse and he couldn’t form the words fast enough to appeal James who threw a stinging hex at him. The spell connected with the base of his neck and drew a small scream from his mouth.

“I said when did you join?”

“L—last…at the beginning…la—” Sirius’s wand touched the underside of his jaw in warning and Regulus jumped, actually scraping the chair a few inches to the side. “Last February!” he cried, trying to keep from getting hexed again. “Early last February!”

“And who have you killed?” asked Marlene in a casual voice. Regulus could not believe such an emotionless tone could come from someone who had always seemed so sweet.

“No one,” he said.

“Liar!” she spat, raising her wand in turn. “Did you kill Dorcas? Do you know who did, were you _there?_ ”

Regulus shrank into himself, taken aback with the sudden outburst of hostility, not that he had been expecting any less during his interrogation, only he had had thought things might escalate more slowly than this.

“Answer me!” Marlene yelled.

“No, I don’t know! No one!” Regulus insisted. “I never hurt any—”

Her wand came down. Regulus felt his head snap to the side and a moment later, cool blood started to slide down his face, dripping onto his neck and shirt. In his peripheral vision he saw her raise her wand again and Regulus gasped, bracing himself for the impact.

Aberforth grabbed her wrist.

“No,” he said calmly. “Let Sirius.”

“But…” Marlene reluctantly settled back down in her place. “Sirius,” she hissed. “Make him answer me truthfully.”

Sirius blinked. “What…why me?” he asked dumbly.

“He’s your brother, Sirius,” said Aberforth coolly. “So he is your responsibility. I expect you to get the information we want from him. Certainly…you didn’t think you could just bring him here and make us do the hard parts for you, did you?”

“Of course not…” Sirius muttered. “Regulus,” he turned to his brother. “Did you have anything to do with Dorcas’s disappearance?”

Regulus shook his head for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I don’t even know who that is, Sirius, please, you have to listen to me,” he pleaded.

“I don’t think he’s lying,” said Sirius to his group.

“Sirius, please, I need to tell you—”

“Then make sure,” Aberforth said loudly.

Sirius looked around uncertainly, and Regulus thought he might have a brief moment to speak, but soon he was hit with conjunctivitis curse, and scream and groan as his eyes felt like they might burst forth from his skull at any moment.

Sirius seemed startled by the strength of his spell and lifted his wand quickly, ending the spell. Regulus sat limp in his chair, tears streaming down his face and his vision only slowly returning to him.

“Ask him for a list of names,” he heard Lupin’s quiet voice from somewhere to his left.

“Good idea.” _James._

“He’ll lie.” _Frank._ “He’ll say he isn’t allowed to know.”

Regulus felt dizzy. His eyesight finally righted itself. What had he been so intent to say before? It had been important…it had been about…horcruxes, that was it! And he was running out of time to say it!

“I..I…there’s…Sirius!” he cried. “Sirius, Sirius,” he chanted his brother’s name over and over again. “I…you have to listen, the Dark Lord, he—”

“Expulso!” Sirius yelled, and Regulus felt his watch explode with great force, gouging into his wrist and loosening his bonds as a result. He let out a cry of surprise and pain as he felt blood, hot this time, rush down the back of his hand and splash to the floor.

“Now how about that list?”

Regulus could only shake. This wasn’t going to look good.

“I don’t really…know anyone,” he whimpered. “We’ve always got masks on and the Dark Lord doesn’t use names…but Sirius _please_ there’s something more important—!”

“He’s lying,” said Alice loudly. “He has to know at least some of them, how else would he have joined? Sirius, make him tell the truth or I will!”

Sirius looked more than a little uncomfortable. “It makes sense, though,” he said quietly.

Marlene gave him a look that could have set him alight.

“Regulus,” Sirius barked. “Who signed you up?”

Regulus coughed and felt bile rise in his throat. “D—Dad,” he sputtered. “Because you were gone—”

“Crucio!” Sirius screamed immediately and without thinking. “You _are_ a liar,” he yelled. “You’re lying about that, you always lie!”

Regulus nearly jerked free from his bonds. He’d never hurt so badly in his life. Something hot was stabbing him all over his body, it was as though each blood vessel would surely burst, and once again he couldn’t see.

Sirius stumbled backwards, nearly into Lupin’s lap, when he finally jerked his wand away. Regulus continued to twitch and yell. In a fit of pain, the youngest Black lost his head and glared at his brother. “I have _never_ lied to you,” he spat through gritted teeth.

These words took Sirius aback and his face took on an unreal quality, as if he were remembering a conversation from a long time ago.

“Is there anyone in the Order spying for You-Know-Who?” demanded Frank suddenly. “Answer me! Sirius, curse him again!”

Sirius, who had gone a little pale by that point, turned to Frank. “I, uh…I don’t know why I…I just reacted…”

“It’s ok,” said Aberforth calmly. “You wanted to get answer from him, Sirius, and that’s exactly how you do it. So by all means, continue.”

“I’m not sure I…” Sirius turned back to Regulus. “Do you—do you know of any double agents, Regulus?” he asked quietly.

Regulus’s mind was spinning. Someone other than himself was disloyal to their side? There had to be. They must already suspect someone if they had thought to ask him about it.

Unfortunately he had no idea, and it showed.

“He’s not going to answer,” said James.

“Probably because he _doesn’t fucking know!_ ” Caradoc hissed. “This is disgusting. Sirius, stop it.”

“Of course he knows!” screeched Marlene.

“So what if he doesn’t,” said Frank loudly, drowning out everyone else. “He’s a Death Eater, he deserves far worse than this! Dorcas is dead!”

“It’s sick how much you’re enjoying this,” Benjy said from the corner of the table. It was the first time he had spoken since Regulus had arrived. Regulus looked up at him pathetically, thinking he might have gained another sympathizer.

“You can always leave if you don’t want to be here,” Alice whispered. “But this is war, Fenwick. You signed up for this.”

Benjy shook his head. “I’m not sure what Order you think you joined,” he muttered, but did not protest further.

“He’s losing blood, so you’d better hurry,” said Alice.

“Right…” Sirius grabbed Regulus by his hair again and turned him to face him. “I’d advise you to start answering now, Regulus.”

“Sirius, _please,_ ” Regulus croaked. “You have to listen to me.”

“We’re all listening,” said Frank evenly.

Regulus trembled. “I’ve figured something out,” he whispered. His head was swimming and Alice was right, he was starting to feel dizzy from the persistent loss of blood from his head and wrist. “The Dark Lord is making himself immortal—”

“You _fucker_ ,” Marlene screamed and next thing her drinking glass collided squarely with Regulus’s temple. “He’s making up wild stories to change the subject. He’s trying to weasel out of answering!”

Sirius looked frantically to Aberforth who only raised an eyebrow.

“Then make him behave, Sirius,” he said plainly.

“But I don’t think I can—”

“He’s all yours, boy,” Aberforth continued. “You wanted to bring him here and do this, and he is _your_ responsibility.”

Sirius looked to Regulus, who had been knocked out cold by Marlene’s heavy glass. “Ennervate,” he whispered, and Regulus was dredged from his blissful unconsciousness. Through bleary eyes he noticed that Lupin had at some point walked out of the room, perhaps amongst all the commotion.

Twice Sirius tried to crucio him again, but he could not summon the hatred necessary for the spell this time. In his confused state, Regulus was saying only Sirius’s name, over and over, and it was pulling up more memories.

_Broomstick rides, Christmas mornings, nights curled up together hiding from storms, Regulus traipsing all the way up to the Gryffindor common room to tell Sirius how he had got his very first kiss…_

Frank waved his wand and summoned what looked like a hunting knife, with edges built for slicing through thick fur and hides. “Here,” he said briskly. “You don’t need magic.”

Sirius stared at the knife, snatching it only when he saw Marlene leaning forward as though she herself might take it.

“Regulus,” he said in an almost pleading voice. “What went on at your last meeting, what did you learn? Regulus, _what did you learn?_ ” he repeated himself, because Regulus was looking quite dazed by that point.

Regulus eyed the knife with resignation. “The Dark Lord,” he whispered. “He is making horcruxes…”

The only two aurors in the room, Alice and Frank, flinched in surprise and then looked at each other meaningfully.

“More lies and nonsense!” insisted Marlene.

“Stop talking gibberish, Regulus,” Sirius hissed. “Now answer me.”

He pushed the knife into Regulus’s belly. It tore through his thin clothing and pierced the skin. Regulus let out a screech like a strangled bird and Sirius only dug the blade in harder, his hand shaking.

From his seat, Aberforth spoke softly, “This is what you wanted, Sirius—”

“I know that!” Sirius screamed.

“What is a horcrux?” asked James suddenly.

“Nothing,” said Sirius. “I’m sure he’s just making shit up. What else is he gonna’ do?” Sirius dug the knife in still further, now to the hilt. Regulus couldn’t help but thrash while he screamed, which only tore him up more.

“It’s a way of splitting your soul, actually,” said Alice, a strange look on her face. It was as though all compassion had come back to her at once and she was now looking at Regulus with noticeable regret. “When you kill someone, it is possible—at that moment—to sever a piece of your soul and attach it to an object. If you do it correctly, then your soul will live on, even if you are killed, and you may essentially come back to life.”

Frank nodded. “It is incredibly rare, dark magic, but it is possible. Sirius, how exactly did you manage to convince your brother to meet up with you again?”

“He didn’t,” said Aberforth, standing up with a satisfied look on his face. “It was Regulus’s idea, wasn’t it?”

Sirius nodded, and slid the knife out. A verifiable river of blood cascaded from Regulus’s thin torso, soaking his clothes and pooling beneath him on the floor. He had stopped screaming and was now only jerking violently. Something fell from his pocket in all the movement and clanked to the floor.

Sirius picked it up with his blood-soaked hands. It was Regulus’s locket replica.

Frank’s eyes lit up and he got up from his chair. Urgently he approached Regulus. He seemed to have put a lot together in his head. “Where is the real horcrux hidden, Regulus?” he asked, grabbing Regulus’s face and stilling him.

Regulus only gurgled at first. There was nothing but a light trickle of blood coming out of his mouth.

“Shh, tell me,” he asked again.

“A cave,” Regulus managed to choke out. He tried to say more but lost his voice again and only shook.

“Okay, okay,” Alice stood up and approached them, seeming to have a better idea. “Regulus,” she said. “Just one more thing. How long ago did you learn about all this?” she asked gently.

No answer.

“A week ago?” she asked. Regulus didn’t respond.

“A month?” Nothing.

“Two months ago?”

Regulus’s eyes lit up and he jumped a little.

“Bingo,” Alice muttered. Lightly she placed her wand at Regulus’s wounded temple and began siphoning out copies of memory matter. “Get me a vial,” she ordered and Frank obeyed.

When she was finished, Regulus slumped down again. Alice held up her very full little bottle.

“This should have everything horcrux related from the last few months. We’ll get a better answer about what’s going on from watching these. He’s…not going to be much use.”

Frank looked away.

“Well,” said Caradoc, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted, Sirius. You’ve got great information to give to Dumbledore at our next official meeting! And you can tell him how you got it all by yourself, too…”

Sirius said nothing.

“Episky,” Benjy murmured quietly, and most of Regulus’s wounds closed, preventing at least any further blood loss. Only Aberforth heard him.

“What are we going to do with him?” asked Marlene in a voice slightly calmer than before. She appeared to be trying to keep herself composed.

Aberforth grimaced. “We’ll have Moody escort him to Azkaban, I suppose.”

“Yes, but in the meantime?”

“He’s not going anywhere, Marlene,” insisted Caradoc harshly. “Look at him, for fuck’s sake. It’ll be a miracle if he doesn’t drop dead right here.”

“He is your responsibility, Sirius,” said Aberforth again, but this time with an extra emphasis. His voice returned to normal as he walked away and up the stairs. “So we’ll leave you with him while we wait for the others.”

“Yeah,” said Benjy harshly. “Make sure he doesn’t make a _run_ for it or anything.” Then he, too, got up and left, Caradoc and the Longbottoms following. Marlene looked like she had something she wanted badly to say, but couldn’t bring herself to.

“I’m going home,” she told him. “Please tell the other I felt sick when they arrive,” and instead of walking upstairs with the others, she apparated on the spot, disappearing with a guilty _crack._

James approached Sirius. The last remnants of Regulus’s restraints slid off and he crumpled to the floor. He was still breathing, but barely. James could hear voices arguing heatedly upstairs and he had a good idea what about. Caradoc and Benjy would most likely be fighting to take Regulus to a hospital, and the Longbottoms might even be on their side—if only to preserve any of his other memories that they might need to snitch—but they would lose out. Even if Remus reappeared from wherever he had slunk off to and Marlene changed her mind, there was no winning against Aberforth, and Aberforth did not care about Regulus. He cared about teaching Sirius a lesson or two, but Aberforth was not his brother, and he would see to it that Regulus was locked up as soon as possible. It was only practical after all. If you let one Death Eater off, wouldn’t you have to let them all walk away? What kind of message would that send to those thinking about joining the Dark Lord? James shook his head in disgust. He was feeling pretty disillusioned about this whole ordeal.

 He looked at Sirius.

“Do you think…that we needed to do all this?” James whispered slowly. His gaze fell uncomfortably to Regulus, but then quickly leaped away. He couldn’t stand to see his shaking, couldn’t handle the destroyed look on his face. “Do you think he would have helped us…if we had just asked him?”

Sirius only stared at his little brother. Regulus trembled on the floor but Sirius was too afraid to touch him; he was terrified that doing so would make everything real. So long as he didn’t move an inch, he could pretend this was all a horrible nightmare, and that any moment, he would wake up and everything would be normal again. No horcruxes, no guilt, no memories, and nothing but an occasional spare stab of hatred for Regulus Black…

James bowed his head and left the room. He was just closing the door behind him when he finally heard an answer from Sirius.

“No,” he said, and there was an odd, broken quality to his voice. He was remembering Regulus’s honest _‘D-Dad.’_ “Because Regulus never tells me anything…”

James was gone. Sirius finally accepted reality and tried to make his brother stand, but Regulus was frantic. His eyes fogged over and he didn’t recognize the man in front of him. He stared at him in pure terror with an expression usually reserved for the deepest of Lovecraftian horror.

“Please, no, _go away!”_ he yelled, hiding his face in his hands and doubling over. His words were thickly slurred, and mispronounced, as if he no longer remembered how to speak properly.

“Won’t you get up, Regulus?” asked Sirius sadly. He sat down next to his brother and tried to still him with a hand on each shoulder. “Regulus…?”

“It hurts, it hurts! None of it’s real, make it stop!” Regulus sobbed. He didn’t respond to his name, probably didn’t even recognize it. Alice hadn’t exactly been careful…how badly had she jumbled up his mind and memories when she had been digging around in there?

“ _Regulus,_ ” Sirius grabbed his face and looked directly at him. “Regulus Arcturus Black,” he said clearly, but got not even a flicker of understanding. Regulus only shook, and tried to hide his face again.

“Regulus,” Sirius insisted, brushing a finger across the wound Marlene had place on Regulus’s face. It seemed it might scar. “You have to come back…I—I need to speak with you.”

But there was nothing there. They had pushed too hard and something vital had broken. Everything substantial was gone from Regulus, and only his fear remained. Sirius knew the others would return for him once they’d summoned Dumbledore and the others, probably within a few hours. They would want to take him straight to Azkaban.

Shaking his head, Sirius knew he could not let that happen. He could not let Regulus lie locked in this cellar for god only knows how long only to be dragged to that horrific island. He pulled Regulus close to him. His brother was making sounds that might have been words to him, but Sirius couldn’t understand. Regulus’s tears soaked into his robes as he cried like a child.

_‘Well you’re not a child anymore..’_ what a lie that had been. _He’s sixteen,_ Sirius told himself. _Sixteen and scared and asking for help…_ he’s _not the monster._

It would be better to kill him; prison would do it eventually…cruelly. He was of no use to either side with his mind gone; he would be left to rot in a cell.

Sirius gripped his wand tightly, shaking a little.

Regulus, incapable of anything other than fear and sadness. Regulus, devoid of life.

Regulus, murdered.

Sirius placed his wand to Regulus’s temple.

_Avada Kedavra,_ he thought. _Avada Kedavra…_ It would be so easy. It would be _right. Avada Ke—_

“Somnus,” he murmured. His brother jerked against him, and then stilled.

“I won’t let them get you,” he whispered, and for a brief instant, he thought Regulus might understand him. The youngest Black was fidgeting in his sleep. How similar this felt to the countless times Regulus had fallen asleep in Sirius’s bed, cuddled up against him because the house was _scary_ at night and _big brother keep me safe._ Sirius took a deep breath and turned his wand swiftly to the side, muttering a further incantation under his breath. Regulus immediately choked and fell limp against him, calmed and no longer restless.

Sirius stood and picked up his body, preparing to apparate on the spot.

“They don’t get to have you,” he murmured into his brother’s soft hair.

Regulus stirred ever so slightly, his breathing even and his unconscious body heavy against his brother, and Sirius exhaled. They vanished, Sirius thinking that there had to be a way, _there just had to be,_ to fix him, make him better. Repair his mind.

Even if it was only enough for Regulus to understand an apology.


	2. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unofficial continuation of the story written because I wanted something happy to balance out all the earlier depressing-ness.

It was two weeks 'til Christmas, and still it had not snowed. The earth was frozen over, the walkways slick with notable ice, but not a single flake had fallen, and as such it did not feel much like Christmas. It was as though the holiday season were on lockdown until such a time as the world was more festive.

Sirius stared at the crystalized landscape of the backyard behind his duplex building. His forehead rested against the cool glass of his sliding glass door as he gazed out over the patio. Today would be another day he did not go outside.

Sometimes he wondered bemusedly how the Order's search for horcruxes was going, but he couldn't find it in himself to deliberately seek out any information. Upstairs in his bedroom he had several unopened letters from James and Remus, maybe there was worthwhile information in those. He would get to reading them eventually.

He had taken a leave of absence from the world, not that he had said as much. He'd brought Regulus from Aberforth's straight to his own apartment, and no one had followed him. Had Benjy for once put his foot down and convinced the Order to leave him alone for the time being? Or perhaps Caradoc had finally lost it and terrified everyone into compliance. He rarely ever got worked up, but when he did it was something to behold. Sirius couldn't see James doing much; despite his rule breaking streak as a teenager he had never had much of a sense of true rebellion about him, and tended to follow along with whatever the others said was right.

Strangely it was Remus who Sirius suspected had had the most hand in his relative isolation. Remus was the kind to fixate on past mistakes, and Sirius had now doubt he was beating himself up over the part he had played in escorting Regulus to Aberforth's. No doubt he was trying to clear his conscience now by buying Sirius and Regulus a brief few months of peace.

And Sirius did not doubt that it would be brief, probably only until the new year. Eventually Regulus would be sought out for further questioning, eventually the Order would call Sirius back to their ranks, but for now at least things got to be quiet.

Sirius jerked himself away from the glass and meandered into the kitchen, and then set about heating up some water. Initially he had worried that You-Know-Who would come bursting straight into his living room, enraged by Regulus's defection and seeking immediate vengeance, but the weeks had passed and all was calm. At first Sirius had thought that perhaps the Dark Lord did not yet know, but as time went on he realized that could not be the case. Regulus had missed nearly a dozen meetings since Sirius had taken him in (he knew because Regulus's tattoo would burn a deep red and send Regulus into a panic wherein he would mutter things along the lines of 'can't be late' and 'don't make me go back'). With so many absences but no death notice in the paper (Walburga and Orion Black would never pronounce their youngest child dead until their enchanted tapestry told them it was so) You-Know-Who had to know Regulus had up and deserted.

The water on the stove began to boil and hiss. Sirius's eyes narrowed. The only explanation was that the Dark Lord did not care. He thought so little of Sirius's brother that his loss was nothing noteworthy—something to be stored away in the back of the mind and revisited later if there was time. This angered Sirius. It angered him because it showed him just how much Regulus had always been regarded as a tool by the Death Eaters and by their parents. It angered him because this was one school bully he couldn't run and beat up for his little brother, and it enraged him because it reminded him of just how recently he had regarded Regulus in that manner himself.

Sirius took deep breaths to steady his hands before dishing out the hot water. Burning himself would do no good, although he would feel as though he deserved it.

From his cupboard he pulled out a small container of tea powder and doled a conservative amount into one mug and a more liberal dosage into the other. Regulus had always loved matcha, but Sirius had more mixed feelings. He would drink it with his brother, though, and no one else.

Cautiously he traipsed up to his bedroom where Regulus was hopefully resting. He had to be quiet. Loud noises and sudden movements still sent Regulus into a frenzy.

He pushed the door open quietly. Sure enough, Regulus was sitting up in his bed, blankets drawn to his chin, and shyly eyeing the many vials of medications and draughts stacked messily on the nightstand.

"Regulus," said Sirius in a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm back. I'm coming in now, okay?"

Regulus turned his face to his brother. His eyes were wide and fearful for a moment before he seemed to relax, although he remained apprehensive. Sirius had to hide a grimace upon seeing Regulus's face. Even after all these months he was still taken aback by the horrendous scar (courtesy of Marlene McKinnon) that ran diagonally from his eyebrow to nearly his chin, scrawling across his eye and nose in the process. It was something Sirius was certain he could fix, or at least drastically fade, but he would need to touch Regulus's face with his wand to do it, and Sirius could not accomplish that yet. He could barely touch Regulus with his hands to medicate him. The first time he had taken his wand out in Regulus's presence had been disastrous.

"No, no, no, don't kill me—I said I was sorry! Don't—PLEASE don't—I don't want to hurt again!"

"Regulus, calm down, I only wanted to…shit, ok. Look, it's gone, see? I put it away. Shh, please relax, you need to keep your heart rate down…"

Yet there was one good thing that had come from the incident. Regulus's begging had convinced Sirius of one thing: his brother wanted to live. It made Sirius feel like he had done the right thing, and it gave him hope that he could repair all of this damage.

But the damage went deeper than just this last half-year, didn't it?

"It's nearly four o'clock which means you need some of your medicines again," Sirius explained while he slowly walked up to the bed and sat down on it. "But I've brought you some of that Japanese tea you like so much to help wash it down."

Regulus leaned away from him at first, but then slowly leaned back as though drawn in by Sirius's scent—or rather, the scent of the tea.

"Matcha," he murmured quietly and reached out a hand. Sirius offered him the more concentrated mug, insides giddy at this brazen display of comfort.

"Good, Regulus," he said. He was thrilled that Regulus had taken any kind of initiative at all. This hadn't happened yet; Regulus had been so passive since arriving here that even the simple task of reaching for something he wanted was major progress. "Don't drink it all, though, because you're going to need some to help you get down those healing draughts—" Sirius began, but it was too late, Regulus had downed his drink and was now looking expectantly to Sirius for more.

"Well I suppose you can have mine," he said, not terribly upset that he would be missing out on choking down the bitter, green liquid. "No," he said, grabbing Regulus's hand when he reached out again and at the same time holding his mug away. "After your meds, Reg, ok?"

Regulus groaned. Sirius knew his brother hated the taste of all the drugs he'd procured for him, but even that knowledge made his heart leap. The first few weeks Regulus had not resisted him at all, had merely laid there in a prone state allowing Sirius to force potion after potion down his throat with nary a protest. This resistance meant Regulus was coming back into himself—no, it meant more than that. It meant he was starting to get comfortable around Sirius again, that he trusted him enough to try and disobey him. Regulus no longer seemed to fear Sirius would hurt him again should he be anything less than compliant.

"Jesus," Sirius muttered, reaching for the nightstand and trying to sort through the dozens of bottles there. "I think you've cleared out a whole hospital by now…"

* * *

 

A week later, Regulus struck up his first conversation with Sirius since The Incident.

"Sirius," he said. It was early in the morning and had finished his dosage of pain medicine. The number of vials on the nightstand had thinned somewhat as Regulus had improved. "You can have your bed back, really."

Sirius turned sharply to look at him. He was seated on the bed next to his brother, the bed he rarely let him get out of. At first it had been because Regulus physically couldn't move himself, and later simply because he'd needed to rest and not exert himself. Now Sirius only allowed Regulus up to use the restroom and to bathe because he was afraid Regulus might be getting too much better. There was a reason Sirius still fed Regulus most of his food by hand, still helped him take his baths…it was because he felt once Regulus realized he didn't really need Sirius anymore, then he would leave, and Sirius didn't want him to. He hadn't fixed everything yet.

"I know you've been sleeping on your couch," Regulus continued. "And you don't have to. It should be me, if anyone, who gets shafted to the living room."

Sirius's throat caught as he felt himself torn between excitement that Regulus was acting so normal again, and terror that Regulus was acting well enough to leave him.

"You—you can't sleep on the sofa," Sirius explained quickly. "It's not good for your back, and you're beaten up enough as it is."

Regulus looked down like he was ashamed. "I'm a burden to you…when was the last time you left the house?"

"I leave every week to restock your medicine," Sirius answered.

"That doesn't count," Regulus tried to argue but Sirius cut him off by running a hand through his hair. Regulus had only just gotten comfortable with physical contact again, and Sirius was taking advantage of that milestone at every turn. Perhaps in a day or so Regulus would let him get to work on that scar on his face…maybe even the ones skittered across his abdomen as well (Sirius felt sick to his stomach every time he saw the one he'd caused with his knife).

"How about this," Sirius countered. "I'll move back up here and we'll both just share the bed, ok?"

"I can sleep on the floor," Regulus mumbled.

"Don't be crazy," Sirius said. He rested his hand on Regulus's soft shoulder (he was not nearly so bony anymore) and shook him playfully. "There's room for two, just so long as you don't sprawl so much as when you were little," he chided.

Regulus collapsed into a brief fit of coughing like he still often did (it was no surprise he'd been coming down with a new sickness almost weekly with his body in such a state of disrepair) but he was blushing all the same.

And that was how they had come to sleep together, something Sirius found he rather enjoyed. The first few nights had been awkward and long, with Regulus consciously keeping far from his brother as though terrified of sleeping so close to him, but that weekend Regulus finally calmed enough for Sirius to set to work on him with his wand. Sirius had faded completely the scar on his brother's face, and made considerable progress with the others, though he doubted his knife wound would ever disappear entirely. Regulus seemed to trust him so much more that that very night he slid cautiously up to him under the covers and rested his head on Sirius's shoulder.

Sirius could not remember anything feeling so therapeutic to his damaged mind and soul as holding his brother close to his chest each night, running his hands gently over his atrophied muscles.

* * *

 

By the week of Christmas, Regulus was well enough to get up and wander the house, and there was nothing Sirius could do to stop him. Nothing sat on his nightstand now except a small, nearly empty bottle of painkillers that Regulus only took to keep Sirius happy. By Christmas Eve, Regulus had become restless.

Sirius knew he was planning to leave, and it pained him that his brother would desert him on the holidays. In all fairness, he realized, Regulus probably didn't even realize what day it was.

So Sirius planned to make what he felt might be his last day with his brother a good one. He had no doubt in his mind that if Regulus walked out that front door, he might never see him again. Truth was the world was dangerous, and Regulus had managed to make himself wanted on both sides of the war. Sirius simply could not protect him if he left, but he couldn't make him stay, either. Eventually the Order would drag him back to their regular meetings and whatnot, and Regulus would find an opportunity to sneak off.

Could Sirius maybe convince him to stay? It was unlikely.

"I didn't know you knew how to bake," Regulus said with a grin as he eyed Sirius's attempts to frost the cake he had just pulled from the oven.

"I don't, but I saw the recipe in the newspaper and the instructions were pretty thorough. I don't understand why this icing won't work, though!" He straightened up in frustration to glare at the dessert like a stern look might make it behave.

"You're supposed to let it cool first, or you'll destroy the entire thing," said Regulus, laughing.

"Really?" asked Sirius in surprise. "How on earth do you know that?"

Regulus shrugged. "Kreacher," he said simply.

Sirius wanted to quickly change the topic from anything to do with their home or family.

"Well, Mr. Chef, let's go into the living room while we wait for my masterpiece to cool."

"Ok," Regulus agreed. "I'll help you with your crossword."

Sirius smiled. Crosswords were something he'd done a lot when he was younger, and Regulus had always offered to help. Until about age fourteen or so Sirius had always said yes. When he'd turned fifteen for the first time he'd said no, and leave me alone.

"I'd like that," Sirius said earnestly.

The two of them sat down in front of the fire to try and fill in the squares. They were halfway done before Regulus bounced up to go finish the cake Sirius had baked instead of making them dinner. He brought them both huge slices and they sprawled out on the floor to eat and continue their crossword, which devolved into scribbling increasingly incoherent nonsense all over the newspaper rather quickly.

"It's no use, it's outsmarted us," Sirius laughed. Without thinking he pulled Regulus up and into his lap.

"Yeah, well, the Sunday ones are always bigger," Regulus offered. He seemed at ease leaning back against Sirius's chest. Sirius pulled his arms tighter around his brother's waist, needing to feel like he had any control over this situation.

It would be Regulus who had the final say, though. If he wanted to go, he would go. He was as healed as he was going to get. True, he still limped a little if he was up and moving for too long, and his vision seemed to have been permanently weakened, but there was nothing else for Sirius to do. With nothing physical left to be fixed, Sirius found himself face to face with only the emotional, and that was something he didn't know how to handle. They hadn't once spoken about what had happened, it was as though neither wanted to shatter the little illusion they had going here. Or it was more like Sirius didn't want to wreck his carefully constructed reality, while Regulus—who seemed very desperate to discuss things—was simply waiting for Sirius to make the first move, not wanting to anger him by suggesting a topic he didn't like.

Sirius had the uncomfortable feeling that Regulus was constantly waiting for him to say something important, but he wasn't quite sure what it was.

They spent the rest of the night chatting, reading, and snacking. Regulus was happy, but he got continually more restless as the evening wore on. Sirius was both relieved and nervous when Regulus said he was exhausted and wanted to retire.

"Ok, but hold on first, I've got something for you," Sirius said, leading Regulus by the hand into the dining room. From a drawer in the cabinet, he withdrew a small present wrapped neatly in blue paper.

"Happy Christmas Eve," he said.

Regulus took the box. "You didn't need to get—"

"Yes I did," Sirius said. "Now open it."

Regulus did. Inside was a new watch, expensive and engraved to him personally. It would just about cover what was left of the scars on his wrist.

Regulus looked up at his brother. This was the closest Sirius had come to offering a straightforward apology. "Thank you, Sirius, it's wonderful."

Sirius nodded and said in a halting voice, "I know there are some things you just can't fix, but that's no excuse not to try."

Regulus stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

"I'm sorry," Sirius breathed, hoping desperately that those were the words his brother had been waiting to hear.

Regulus pulled back a little. "Who am I?" he asked his brother suddenly.

Sirius blinked. "You're…Regulus Black," he answered dumbly. "Regulus Arcturus Black…Regulus, I'm so sorry!" he cried again, pulling Regulus back into his chest and finally letting his tears fall.

"You're fine," said Regulus over and over. "I forgive you, really."

But when he moved away and led Sirius back upstairs to bed (pulling on his new watch as he did so) Sirius could see on his face that he'd messed up somewhere—he hadn't answered Regulus's question correctly.

Sirius strengthened the fire threefold as they made their way into bed. They'd spent the whole day downstairs and allowed the bedroom fire to dim, rendering the room a frozen wasteland.

"Regulus, what are you doing?" asked Sirius curiously as he saw his brother getting into bed with his day clothes still on.

"It's too cold to change," Regulus whined. "I'll freeze."

Sirius gave him a look. "No you won't, I've got the fire going good again. Now here, put this on. You'll get sick if you sleep in your clothes." Part of Sirius worried, perhaps irrationally so, that Regulus was planning to go to bed in his normal clothes so he could make his escape during the night.

Regulus pouted but took the dressing gown from his brother. Swiftly his threw off his shirt and pants without waiting for Sirius to turn around, as he had every night before. Instead, Sirius watched with more than a little guilt in his stomach. He was to the point of wanting to touch Regulus just for the sake of touching. He wanted to trail the back of his hand down his brother's torso, scrape his nails lightly against the small of his back, rest his face in the crook of his neck…but mostly he wanted to hold him close and keep him there.

Sirius changed and crawled into bed next to his brother. As had become their routine, Regulus snuggled up to him immediately and rested his head and shoulders on Sirius's chest. Just like always, Sirius combed his fingers through his hair laid his other arm across his back.

"I love you, Sirius," said Regulus for the first time in years and Sirius couldn't stop himself from feeling unworthy of the words.

"I love you, too," he replied and to his surprise, Regulus strained his neck to look up at him and spoke.

"Why?" he asked in that same random and curious voice from earlier.

Sirius stuttered. What kind of a question was that?

"Because…" he offered lamely. Regulus waited in vain for a better answer but, upon receiving none, eventually settle back into sleep with a hurt sigh.

"I'm sorry," Sirius murmured again.

* * *

 

The next morning Regulus left. Sirius found himself woken gently by a small kiss to his cheek. He opened one eye blurrily and saw his brother closing the bedroom door behind him. At first Sirius didn't make much sense of what he saw, but when he rolled over and felt nothingness, the realization that his brother was not beside him woke him up like a dousing of ice water.

He sat up quickly, his heart racing. How long ago had Regulus left? It felt like just an instant, but could he really trust his sleep addled brain to tell time accurately?

In a blur, he got up and threw on the closest clothing he could find. It was while he was jumping into some shoes that he paused to think as another realization hit him.

What was he going to do? If Regulus wanted to leave then what could he possible say? I'm sorry for the eight hundredth time? He could beg, or try to put into words just how badly he needed Regulus to stay with him, but he knew that wouldn't work.

His brother had been hoping for something different from him and he hadn't gotten it. Sirius felt himself starting to cry again. It was bizarre, he felt, that he would be so emotional now after reconnecting with Regulus for only a brief time. But he'd been surviving lately in a state of almost constant memory. He'd been seeing the past in almost everything Regulus did. There wasn't a day that had passed that hadn't reminded him of some distant year long gone when he and his brother had been closer. His mind had been working overtime lately, tirelessly reconnecting the Regulus he saw before him now with the little brother from his memories. The little kid who had loved him and trusted him unconditionally simply because he was his big brother…

It's not like Sirius had ever even done that much to win Regulus over. He'd simply come into this world loving Sirius because that's what younger brothers did.

"Regulus!" Sirius screamed suddenly. He jumped up and raced out of his room and down the stairs. He threw open his front door and—thank whatever gods there were—saw Regulus just reaching the end of the walkway.

"Regulus!" he yelled again, and Regulus turned around to look at him.

For a moment there was silence as Regulus stood there, hands in his pockets and the steely grey sky shining behind him. The street around them was deserted.

"You're my brother," Sirius said simply. "You're my one and only brother and that's why I love you. Please don't go because I can't lose you. You're my brother."

There was a lot more Sirius needed to say but it could wait—would have to wait. He'd found all he needed to say in that moment.

It was what Regulus wanted to hear. He came obediently back to Sirius's side as though he had been summoned. He buried himself in the comfort of his brother, who wasted no time in leading them back inside, back where it was warm.

Sirius pulled Regulus along and the pair gently tumbled onto the sofa, Sirius on top of his brother and looking down with contentment and love. Regulus leaned up to kiss his chin, just barely below the lips.

The door swung magically closed behind them and though neither looked over to see, the snowflakes were finally beginning to fall.


	3. Remnants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loosely-related Sirius/Regulus fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up for incestuous undertones (Sirius/Regulus). Nothing explicit.

Was there room in Sirius's life for any more drama? He wasn't sure anymore. Christmas had come and gone relatively smoothly and Sirius should have been peacefully looking forward to welcoming the new year with his brother safely by his side, but he wasn't.

He was tearing himself apart; he was in chaos, utter chaos, and if he was honest with himself, it was all his own fault. He'd started this, he'd wanted this, and he was the one to drag Regulus down with him.

Sirius was past the point where he could deny it any longer, and he was fairly certain he'd sailed by the point of being able to keep Regulus in the dark as well. No longer could he throw out his usual excuses, to himself or to his brother.

You're too weak to move, Regulus, so you need me to help you in and out of the bathtub. That was no longer true.

I like to hold you close to me at nights…just to make sure you're safe. That was only partly true.

This is just how brothers kiss, to show how much they love each other. That had never been true.

Sirius groaned and covered his face with his hands. He couldn't even summon the energy to get out of bed, he felt so terrible. He was taking advantage of Regulus—in the worst ways possible. He was selfish, cruel and selfish. He had turned his back on his brother years ago, left him for dead, then actively tried to kill him before effectively kidnapping him. Now he got to add incest to the top of that already damning list, because that's what it was! Sirius couldn't lie to himself any longer, the feelings he had for Regulus, the things he wanted to do to him, were not platonic.

Sirius rolled over. Regulus had sprawled out during the night and was slumbering gently on his stomach, face turned away from Sirius and arms wrapped around his pillow. Sirius pulled the covers up a little higher. On the nightstand next to the bed, Regulus's new watch glistened in its protective case.

Got a chill from going outside yesterday…that's why you need to stay in here with me every day…

Regulus stirred and pushed himself up onto his elbows. "S'rus?" he slurred sleepily.

"Go back to sleep," Sirius whispered, but Regulus only shook his head. He then turned to face his big brother, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

"No, I'm up," he said. "What time is it?"

"A little after eight," Sirius responded.

Regulus sat bolt upright. "Sirius!" he said. "You were supposed to meet up with the order at seven-thirty, weren't you?"

Sirius shook his head. "I sent a letter to James. They'll survive one meeting without me."

"…You're staying home?" asked Regulus, perplexed.

Sirius nodded.

"Oh."

Sirius rested a hand behind Regulus's neck, kneading gently. Sometime during the night, Regulus had lost his shirt. Sirius had to take slow breaths to try and dissuade himself from thinking of how easy it would be to slip his brother out of his sleeping pants as well. "You seem upset," he observed.

"No," Regulus insisted. He craned his neck to the side, enjoying Sirius's touch. "I'm actually really happy. You've been so busy with them all lately and gone so often that I was beginning to think you were avoiding me on purpose." He looked down sheepishly.

"No, that's not it at all," Sirius insisted, but his brother had actually hit it head on. Maybe one out of every three times he'd said he was joining the Order of the Phoenix was he actually doing it. Sirius had taken to making himself scarce most days and coming home incredibly late at night. Just last night he had slunk back in around three a.m. in the hopes that Regulus would be passed out asleep.

Regulus looked unconvinced of Sirius's response, but nodded none the less. He stretched and then snuggled himself back down, wrapping his arms around Sirius. "I know it's silly, but sometimes I get so jealous. You're always with those…people."

There was something in the way Regulus spoke of the Order that made Sirius suspect he still harbored a deep fear and hatred of them as a result of what had occurred at Aberforth's. Why on earth Regulus would consent to forgive Sirius of all involved was a mystery to the older Black.

"And it seems like you're always trying to keep so far away from me lately…even just now," Regulus pouted. Truly some days it seemed to him that Sirius was all over him, while other days he wouldn't stay in the same room as Regulus.

Sirius hadn't even noticed that he had subconsciously leaned away from his brother until Regulus pointed it out.

"I guess I don't understand. You won't let me use the shower unless you're in there with me (which is frustrating when you're gone so often) but you're inching away from me now when I try to hug you. Why?"

Sirius bit his lip. Finally he settled on saying, "Reggie, I don't want to hurt you."

Regulus tilted his head quite drastically. "What're you talking about?" he asked. "I know you'd never hurt me."

There was such an honesty to Regulus's tone that Sirius had to wonder if his brother had sustained head damage after all.

"Regulus, do you honestly not remember what I did to you?" Sirius asked, amazed.

Regulus leaned in and kissed Sirius softly along his jaw too quickly for Sirius to have time to react. "You saved me from the Dark Lord, Sirius," he said simply. "Anything that happened along the way is irrelevant."

"Regulus…" Sirius whispered, shaking his head.

"Shh," Regulus whispered back. He placed two soft fingers on Sirius's mouth. "Please stop worrying about that."

Sirius pulled down Regulus's hand. "Regulus," he said in a shaky but determined voice. "I almost killed you! I…I crucioed you!"

"But you love me now!" Regulus cried. He looked at Sirius with nothing short of desperation in his eyes. "So can we just forget all of that; it doesn't matter anymore, because…well," he bit his lip. "You do love me now, right?"

"Regulus I love you like crazy. I love you so much. I love you…more than I should."

"Then forget all about last summer!"

The mention of summer sparked something in Sirius's brain and his mind began grinding furiously. He had been avoiding the topic lately, but there was the matter of his brother's education. Regulus was only sixteen, and had he not been for lack of a better word, abducted, by Sirius he would be halfway done with his sixth year by now. However he'd not stepped out of Sirius's home since the new term had begun, and Sirius didn't plan to change that arrangement now, despite how guilty he felt about his attraction to the youngest Black.

"Fuck, Regulus…never mind all this, for now let's just focus on you, okay? It's been long enough, we need to get you studying again."

"Oh, Sirius!" Regulus whined. He shrank away to his side of the bed. "Can't we just wait until after the new year?" He pleaded. It seemed to horrify him that Sirius had changed the discussion from his least favorite topic to his second least favorite topic.

"No," Sirius shook his head. "You've lost too much time already (and you can't go back to school in the present atmosphere) so you need to make up lost time as fast as possible. I'll not have you falling behind because of me." He added bitterly.

"But Sirius," Regulus managed to drag his brother's name out into approximately twelve syllables.

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"Oh don't give me that look," Regulus huffed. "What're you gonna' do, ground me? You'd have to let me outside first for it to have any impact."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Of course not, but you'll do as I say."

"Or what?" demanded Regulus. There was a spark in his eyes, though, that suggested he would keep this faux argument going if it meant Sirius would actually yell at him, instead of adopting that soft-spoken, almost frightened tone he'd used all winter thus far. It was as though he walked on eggshells around Regulus, but Regulus wanted his original brother back—the Sirius from his early childhood who would tease and tickle him. Regulus jumped up from the bed and arranged his fingers in a rather unpleasant manner.

Sirius's eyes widened.

"What do you mean, 'Or what?'" he yelled. He stood up as well and leaped towards Regulus. "I'll smack you if I can get ahold of you, that's what!"

"Oh, so now you're my dad, too," Regulus laughed while he dodged away from his brother. "That's messed up!"

Sirius chased his shirtless brother down the hall and into the living room. "I'm as good as!" he insisted. Regulus skidded to a halt when he had nowhere else to run, and Sirius smacked into him. They tumbled onto the couch. "Who else you got?" Sirius muttered against Regulus's bare shoulder. Regulus skin was warm to his touch, almost radiating. Sirius pinned him down firmly.

"Well for the record, I think you'd make a terrible guardian—ouch! Stop that!"

"You wanna' say that again, smartass?"

"Kiss my—ouch! God!"

"Are we going to behave now?" Sirius laughed.

"Yes," Regulus relented.

"Are you going to let me teach you?"

"…okay."

"And are you going to study and do what I tell you without complaining?"

"…"

"…Regulus."

"…ouch okay, I will! I promise!"

Sirius set Regulus up with some of his old textbooks from school. He found playing teacher to be harder than it seemed, perhaps he had been too hard on his old professors. Regulus spent close to twenty minutes insisting that he should be allowed to forego studying history in favor of doing extra divination reading.

"No way," insisted Sirius, swiping Regulus's tarot cards back from him, much to the younger's chagrin. "If I had to suffer, so do you. Be thankful I'm not lecturing you in Binns's slow, ghost monologue."

"I hate you."

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Sirius said. He started to turn away and retreat into the kitchen. If he was going to skip out on the Order meeting to stay home, he'd better be sure to feed his brother before Regulus tried to cook something on his own. Even the days and nights he had stayed far away he was always sure to leave pre-cooked meals for Regulus, kept warmed magically; he really didn't want Regulus messing around with the rickety old stove in his apartment.

Regulus abandoned his pseudo-schoolwork and attacked Sirius behind.

"Shit," Sirius staggered as Regulus collided with him.

"I don't hate you, Sirius," Regulus mumbled. His voice was muffled by Sirius's shirt.

Sirius swiveled around to hold his brother. "I know that," he chuckled. "I know that."

Regulus slid off him. "Can I help you cook?" he asked with shining eyes. He was excited that Sirius was in one of his 'staying close' moods again, and intended to take full advantage of that. He didn't know how long he had before his brother came to his senses and started avoiding him again.

"All right," Sirius conceded. His brother was five months behind, what was another hour?

Sirius clanked around in the kitchen for ten minutes or so, setting up pans and measuring out ingredients. Regulus mostly watched; he was useless in the kitchen. He'd told Sirius it was clumsiness, but he suspected his brother knew the truth. Regulus felt uncomfortable handling knives.

Regulus slid up onto the counter. "Did you have any interesting dreams last night, Sirius?" he asked casually.

Sirius froze. "What?" he asked. "Why?"

Regulus shrugged. "You were just mumbling my name a lot," he explained. Sirius turned to face him.

"I don't remember," he said slowly. "Could've been a lot of things." Sirius was uncomfortable with the look on Regulus's face; he seemed…smug.

"Oh, if you're sure, Siri…"

"If you're going to be weird, I'll send you back into the other room, Reg."

Regulus giggled and jumped back down. He nuzzled close up to Sirius.

It was too much. Regulus had already brought last night's (pleasant) dreams back to the forefront of Sirius's mind, and now he was cuddled up against Sirius's chest, breathing lightly.

Sirius slid his arms around Regulus's waist and pulled him tight against his chest. He seemed to lose control of himself; he pressed his face into the crook of Regulus's neck. He peppered light kisses up and up to the soft skin behind Regulus's ear where he rested his lips. Regulus's lengthening black hair tickled Sirius's eyes and cheek.

"M'trying to cook some breakfast for you here, Reggikins—"

"—don't call me that—"

"—but you seem to be hell-bent on stopping me!"

"Sorry, I'm just really excited…I mean…" Regulus trailed off and then slipped from Sirius's grip. He slid back to the other side of the kitchen, facing away from Sirius.

"About…what?" Sirius turned his brother to face him. He was shocked to see that Regulus looked to be near tears. "Regulus!"

"Nothing," Regulus insisted quickly, wiping at his face. "Just that you chose…you chose to stay with me instead of all your friend…people."

"Oh, Regulus…" Sirius trailed off. Regulus had issues with abandonment, Sirius had come to know this. Having seen his parents literally disown their first son at the drop of a hat had made Regulus wary that he could meet a similar demise. Sirius had left Regulus behind two days before his thirteenth birthday to go and live with James (had he even bothered to send a card or something? Sirius couldn't remember).

Sirius was suddenly hit with an uncomfortable idea. He was all Regulus had left now, and if Regulus felt even for a second that Sirius might ditch him, he would do anything. Sirius suddenly felt dirty, wondering if Regulus's affectionate behavior was a show, some kind of desperate act. After all, Sirius was literally all that stood between Regulus and Azkaban, or worse, death at the hands of Voldemort.

Then another thought sneaked its way into Sirius's mind, and he was ashamed that he felt both horrified and ecstatic about this second realization. Regulus would not refuse him. He could launch himself at his brother right now and the kid would never push him away, probably wouldn't even protest.

"You're crazy, little brother," Sirius slung his arms over Regulus's shoulders in what he hoped was a platonic nature. "You've got nothing to worry about, you mean more to me than anyone."

Regulus seemed unsure, but he still melted into Sirius's arms. Sirius snickered. Regulus could be so paranoid—although not without reason. Idly, Sirius patted his brother's stomach.

The reaction as instantaneous. Regulus flinched massively as Sirius's hand tapped lightly against the scar on his stomach. All in a flash, memories of what had happened to him—at Sirius's hands, no less—flooded back into his mind.

Sirius released Regulus quickly, immediately realizing what he'd done. Regulus shook.

"Regulus, I'm so fucking sorry!"

"No, it's fine," Regulus insisted. He was breathing fairly heavily.

"No it's not," Sirius hissed. He threw a hand up to his forehead. "I just…fuck, Regulus, how can you even stand to be around me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't fuck with me, Regulus," Sirius said. "I hurt you, okay? I tied you down and I fucking tortured you. I can never apologize enough times, and you should never forgive me, understand? I am so sorry…"

"Sirius, please," Regulus approached Sirius and reached up to place a hand on each side of his elder brother's face, as if to still him. "Look at me. Look at my arm."

He nodded to his left forearm. Sirius's eyes fell to the fading tattoo that marred the skin. It was amazing how quickly he had gotten used to it. For a while, it had disgusted him to look at it, then that feeling had slowly shifted to discomfort, and now it was as though the Mark had always been there. It was a part of Regulus's skin—a part which occasionally pulsated and radiated with pain that brought Regulus to his knees.

"What?" Sirius asked.

"I joined the Death Eaters," Regulus said simply. "And you forgave me."

Sirius's eyes widened. "That's different!" he insisted, but before he could launch into an explanation of why, Regulus interrupted him.

"Obliviate me," he said.

"Regulus, what—?"

"You can't do yourself," Regulus continued matter-of-factly. "Because an Order Member can't have an altered memory, but you can change my recollection of that night, and then stop worrying!"

"No," said Sirius immediately. "I wouldn't even consider it. Reg, that's…"

"If facing your problems head-on only results in pain, then there's nothing wrong with walking around them," insisted Regulus.

Sirius stuttered. "What would I even change?"

Regulus smiled at him. He had the look about him of a teenager successfully extending their curfew. "Not much," he said quickly. "Just switch a few lines around to make it look like you were less involved. Then…" he grasped Sirius's hand gently in both of his own. "Take the knife out of your hand…and place it in someone else's…perhaps the auror's husband, or that one awful woman…you could change my memory, so that all I remember is how you saved me from them, took me here to keep me safe…"

"Regulus that wouldn't be right. And it wouldn't solve the problem…"

"Yes it would," Regulus said insistently. "It would be different if it weren't my idea, but I'm telling you to do it. I want you to stop being sad."

"Yes, but Regulus, think how unhappy I'll be living my whole life knowing that not only did I almost kill you, but that I made you forget about it as well. I'd be taking advantage." Sirius took a step back from Regulus. Regulus was so close to him, and he really didn't need the distraction.

"Well just think about it, okay? It can be an option." Regulus slid up against him again, snaked his arms under Sirius's shirt and leaned up to kiss him softly on the lips.

Suddenly everything slowed down. Sirius was frozen in place. He was now acutely aware of everything around him. He could feel his shirt, bunched up from Regulus's arms, shifting scratchily along his skin. He could hear Regulus's nervous breathing against his neck. He could see the nervous light in Regulus's eyes as they flitted back and forth, his brother clearly worrying about the ramifications of what he had just done.

And Sirius let loose. A part of him was screaming to stop before he could never go back, but he ignored it. He slammed Regulus up against the low counter, bending him almost double, and reattached their mouths together. Sirius felt as though the only true breaths he took were surely these, where his breath intermingled with Regulus's and their body heat melded together into one. Sirius lifted Regulus's legs, so he was sitting on the counter now, and he positioned himself lewdly between them. He fastened one hand to Regulus's hip and the other into his hair. He could vaguely hear Regulus's muffled sighs and whimpers.

Sirius slid his shirt off slickly and threw it to the ground without missing a beat. This counter would never do, he decided. He would have to carry Regulus to…the bedroom? Ah, but the couch was much closer. He kissed Regulus none too gently again, and was preparing to lift him up, when he heard him gasp in pain.

"Sirius…" he whined.

"Shh, it's fine."

Regulus pawed weakly at Sirius's arms with his right hand. "No, Sirius," he gasped. "Stop…just for a second."

"Regulus—" Sirius began harshly.

"Please," Regulus started to beg. Then he screamed and his left arm started to convulse. Sirius immediately stepped back, regretting doing so when Regulus promptly fell of the counter and onto the hard floor. He clutched at his forearm and writhed. Sirius could see the tattoo was moving. The snake was restless as it circled around and around Regulus's wrist and arm, searing the skin until Regulus hunkered over on himself and Sirius could see it no longer.

Sirius didn't touch his brother, although it killed him not to. He had learned after Regulus's first week here that you didn't touch him when this happened; it sent him into a blind panic because he could see very little at the moment, and could easily misinterpret any physical touch as that of his former master's. Sirius's hands seeking to sooth Regulus's agony might as well be Voldemort's fingers closing around the young man's neck, trying to strangle him for his desertion.

So Sirius sat it out, clenching and unclenching his fists. Regulus was under for near to five minutes according to the kitchen clock on the wall. When all had subsided, and Regulus was again aware of his surroundings, he looked up from the floor, expecting Sirius's usual words of comfort. Aside from the times his brother had been gone (a painfully large number as of late) Regulus had been able to count that, without fail, Sirius would hold him close immediately after a summoning. He would wrap him up on his lap and repeat over and over how very brave he was not to give in, for the only way to stop the pain early was to apparate to the Dark Lord's side.

This time was different, though. Sirius looked angry. Regulus's eyes widened.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sirius hissed. He kneeled down next to Regulus and straightened him up. He looked furious. "Why didn't you let me know it was starting to hurt you? I know it starts out slow, to give you a warning, so why did you ignore it? I could have gotten you safe to bed before it settled in! You wouldn't have fallen and hurt yourself, you fucking idiot! What is wrong with you?"

Regulus then noticed what Sirius had seen. There was a strong throbbing that had begun along the side of his face and ribcage from where he'd hit the floor. Now that the pain of the Mark had subsided to merely aches, he was acutely aware of the blood pounding up to what were surely fast-forming bruises.

"I…I…" his voice cracked. He had felt his arm begin to twinge even as he'd first rested in Sirius's arms. Guiltily, he looked down. "I don't know."

"Regulus, I swear if you weren't already banged up—!" Sirius spat. "How can you be so stupid?"

"I didn't want you to stop."

"What was that?" Sirius demanded.

Regulus bit his lip. He felt so pathetic sitting hunkered over on the kitchen floor, his brother kneeling over him and seething.

"I thought you might stop," he explained in a shaking voice. "And I didn't want you to."

Sirius blinked. Regulus's explanation had an almost instant calming effect. Within seconds Sirius was feeling terrible for his behavior. He chose not to respond to Regulus's words. They reminded him of what the two had been doing and he felt a strong desire to avoid that topic entirely.

Instead he pulled Regulus gently into his arms. "Oh, Honey, are you hurt terribly?" Regulus always seemed to be twenty pounds lighter after these little episodes, or perhaps Sirius was merely hyped up on the adrenaline of it all. Either way, he carried Regulus effortlessly back to the bedroom and settled him in under the covers. Regulus had broken out in to a bit of sweat and was shaking as the remnants of the Mark's punishment wracked their way through him.

Sirius lay down with him, stroking his hair. Every time Regulus made to speak, Sirius would murmur "sh, for now' and glide his fingers over Regulus's lips.

"Things can't go on like this," Sirius muttered restlessly, more to himself than Regulus. "You can't keep that mark."

"When the war is over…" Regulus said in a voice strained with pain and exhaustion.

"That could be years," Sirius responded. His voice turned bitter. "And I don't like that you have it. I don't like to think that somebody else owns you."

"What did you say?"

"I said I don't like to think that somebody owns you."

Regulus smiled a little when he caught his brother's slip up. "Then perhaps you should leave your own mark on me," he suggested.

Perhaps I should, Sirius thought, although he was uncertain if he said the words aloud or not. He shook his head before his desires and Regulus's willingness could once again get the better of him. "Here, come and lay close to me for a minute."

"M'hungry now," Regulus complained, but still he fell into Sirius's embrace with no protest.

"I'll bring you something soon. Just rest for now."

Regulus slipped into a trance-like slumber almost immediately. Sirius wondered if he had truly gotten enough rest the night before. Had he stayed up late waiting in vain for Sirius to come home? Hoping that maybe Sirius's mood would swing back and he would again stop avoiding him? Sirius felt sick with guilt.

His brother had cooled now from the fever hot brought about by the Mark to a more content temperature. Sirius kissed his cheek. Regulus was strewn painfully across his arm at that point, and the limb was going numb, but Sirius would rather let it rot and fall off than move and wake the sleeping Black.

Despite his better judgment, Sirius trailed a finger lightly along the oblong scar that marred Regulus's stomach. His brother flinched instantly and began to tremble. Sirius wondered if that kind of instinctual reaction would disappear with the altering of Regulus's memories. How ever could he have his brother in this state? One careless touch was all it took to make Regulus shy away from him. Could he bring himself to hold Regulus down if he knew it would bring back the terror of being tied to that chair? How cruel a twist of fate was it to have the incident that had established his newfound feelings for Regulus be the very same one that prevented him from acting upon them!

His brother stirred.

"Will you think about my offers? Both of them?" Regulus's voice was slurred.

"Go to sleep." Sirius's voice was insistent.


	4. Paper and Oil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More self-indulgence on my part. Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for more Sirius/Regulus. Again, nothing explicit.

Saturday morning Sirius Black slept late. It was almost noon before he finally threw back the covers and started rubbing at his eyes. There was a noticeable absence of weight on his left shoulder and he curiously looked over to see with a slight shock that his brother was not draped over him as he usually was.

Regulus, still clingy from all that he had been through lately, had developed the habit of staying curled up against Sirius until Sirius finally pulled him from the bed and forced him to eat breakfast of some kind. Puzzled, Sirius threw on some clothes and glanced in the bathroom. When he saw Regulus was not there, he ventured down the hall and into the kitchen, where he found his brother sitting at the dining room table with a glass of water and the newspaper. He looked terribly adult-like, and it took Sirius aback.

"There you are, Reg. What's wrong? You look kind of down."

Sirius was still in a perpetually cautionary mindset, where he tended to over-interpret Regulus's every facial expression, as if reading Reggie's face was like sticking a dipstick into his brain and gauging just how much he wanted to stay with Sirius. If Regulus so much as sighed, it was usually enough to send a jolt of terror down Sirius's spine as he imagined Regulus telling him to fuck off as he walked out the door.

But Regulus put down the newspaper and smiled up at Sirius. "No, nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Good morning by the way, you slept for quite a while."

Sirius sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck. "Yeah…sorry. Did you eat anything?"

Regulus pointed back into the kitchen and Sirius noticed the dishes in the sink and a full plate of food sitting on the stove.

"I ate," Regulus explained. "That's for you."

"Oh, thanks," said Sirius in surprise. He scooped up the plate of eggs and toast and slid a chair right up next to his brother. He gently leaned on Regulus's shoulder and attempted to follow his line of eyesight, curious about what part of the paper he was reading.

"You and your friends seem to be doing well," said Regulus conversationally. "There were three arrests made yesterday. One of them was that teacher from Durmstrang. That doesn't surprise me. I met him once, he was strange. Anyway, I'm happy for you guys."

"When did you meet Karkaroff?" asked Sirius with mild concern.

"Mum and Dad considered sending me to his school for a while there. He was visiting London during the summer of your second year, when you were at James's, and we met up with him for lunch. I remember being too scared of him to speak much. Mum and Dad had to do all the talking."

"They almost sent you to the other side of the planet?" Sirius's eyes snapped open wide and he sat up straight.

Regulus shrugged. "They were worried I'd turn out like you. Mum especially always liked to forget that you were a problem child from early on; she liked to blame Hogwarts for all of your flaws."

"I'm so glad they didn't send you."

Regulus laughed a little. "It was the distance that finally did it. Takes a long time to get over there, and their classes go longer than ours did. They start in the end of July and go until nearly the end of June. Almost wouldn't have been worth the trip home each summer. I think it was when Dad realized that they'd be ostensibly stuck with only you for a very long time that they caved and let me go to school in Britain."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this was going on?" Sirius asked, looking a little hurt. "Oh, wait never mind. That was a stupid question, wasn't it? You probably thought I wouldn't care."

Regulus nodded thoughtfully. "I remember thinking you'd be happy that I was gone, but sad that you'd end up being the focus of Mum and Dad's attention again."

Sirius's face fell.

Regulus folded the paper back up. "But that was all a long time ago, hardly matters now. You should finish that," he added, pointing to Sirius's plate.

Sirius had matters to take care of that afternoon, so he warily left Regulus alone. When he returned from James's around seven o'clock, he set about making hamburger gravy and red potatoes, one of Regulus's favorite meals, as an apology for leaving him alone for so long.

Regulus was lured downstairs from the bedroom by the promising smell of food.

"Oh, my favorite," he smiled when he'd gotten close enough to see. The smile didn't reach his eyes though, and looked oddly forced. Sirius kissed his brother's head and threaded his fingers through his soaked hair. Regulus had taken a shower and now was damp and smelled pleasantly of soap, conditioner, and body wash. His shirt still clung a little too tightly to his wet skin and he was tantalizingly warm. Sirius had to suppress a groan as Regulus reached up to wrap a thin hand around his wrist. Even in his distracted state, though, Sirius could tell his brother's movements were depressed.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked again. He didn't want to annoy Regulus with his prodding, but if he needed to change some aspect of his behavior to make Regulus happy again (to keep him from leaving), he wanted to know right away.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Regulus said softly, but Sirius was unconvinced. He placed a lid on the pan on the stove and turned to look Regulus squarely in the eye.

"Regulus," he began, but Regulus fell against his chest, loosely hugging him.

"This is Dad's fault," Sirius griped while he stroked his brother's hair and Regulus made contented humming noises into his chest. "He used to slap us all the time when he thought we were getting too talkative or emotional, and now you never open your goddamn mouth whenever something's bothering you. I didn't used to either, but then I spent seven years in a dorm room with James…"

Regulus wriggled from his grasp and pulled the lid off his dinner. "Can we eat it now, Sirius?"

"No we cannot, now put that back down and wait patiently."

Regulus pouted, but obediently backed away and set himself up on the counter, from where he started messing about with the contents of the silverware drawer.

"If there's anything you need, or if there's anything going on, you know you can tell me, right?" Sirius asked after moment of agonizing over whether or not he should let Regulus drop the subject as he so clearly wanted to do.

"Yes, I know that," Regulus hopped to the floor. "Are we eating in the living room? I can set the table if you'd rather…"

Sirius spun around and grabbed Regulus by his wrists before he could walk off.

"Regulus," he growled, pulling him close. "Stop. Changing. The subject. Now for the last time, will you let me know what's going on that's got you acting so weird? I'm worrying. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Sirius. Th—there's nothing," Regulus stuttered a little, either because he was lying or because he was frightened of the way Sirius was holding him. In case it was the latter, Sirius slid his hands up to Regulus's shoulders where they rested much more loosely.

"It sounds like you don't trust me," he said sadly, but he finally let Regulus slink away to the living room and finished cooking in silence.

When dinner was ready he brought it to the coffee table in front of the couch and sat down next to Regulus, who had evidently spent the last twenty minutes sitting rigidly on the very edge staring dejectedly into his hands.

"Eat," Sirius ordered gently. "All of it. You're still too skinny."

Regulus obeyed and they dined in silence for the most part, excluding a few short-lived conversations about negligible things.

It wasn't until Sirius had cleared the dishes into the sink and was just racking his brains for a good excuse to put off doing them until tomorrow when he heard Regulus's faint voice.

"I…did a bad thing."

Sirius quickly returned to the living room.

"What?" he asked Regulus urgently.

But Regulus was silent again. All his courage, it seemed, had faded away and he was starting to regret saying anything at all.

"Regulus, tell me what happened!" Sirius urged but to no avail.

"You'll be so cross, you'll be so angry," was the only reply he got.

Sirius threw his head in his hands. He really hadn't wanted to play this particular card, but it looked like he was running out of options.

"Regulus, listen to me carefully. Remember that you were a Death Eater. You worked for Voldemort,the man I've dedicated my life to fighting…and I forgave you that. Whatever has happened, it cannot possibly be worse than that."

Regulus shook a little at the mention of his former master's name, and unconsciously reached to wrap his fingers around his tattoo. Sirius was forcefully reminded of his inability to remove the thing and felt a sudden surge of anger.

(He'd tried every spell and method he could think of thus far, and nothing seemed able to sever the Dark Lord's magical connection without the risk of alerting him).

Regulus did seem a little emboldened by Sirius's speech, though, and finally after much deliberating, he looked away from his brother and quietly intoned:

"I went home, to Grimmauld Place."

Sirius blinked a few times. "W—what?" he asked. Of all the possible causes of Regulus's distress, this had been the last thing on his list.

"I went back to our house," Regulus said in a resigned voice. "I'm sorry. You never said not to, but it was heavily suggested and I knew I wasn't supposed to…"

Sirius stood tall over his brother. Despite how he'd been telling himself he would act when Regulus finally came clean, he had his hands clenched in fists and his voice was rising.

"Why on earth would you go back there? Were they home? Regulus if they had gotten ahold of you…"

Regulus nodded and looked down even further. "I know, I know," he whimpered. "I'm sorry. Mom wasn't home, I had Kreacher make sure. I just needed to get something was all."

"What?" Sirius screamed. "What could have possibly been so important?" There was an inexplicable feeling of terror coiling in his stomach, in spite of knowing Regulus was safe and unharmed in front of him. Discounting that one incident near Christmas when Regulus had first pondered leaving Sirius's apartment and several escorted meetings with Professor Dumbledore, the boy had not stepped foot outside since—to Sirius's knowledge at least—per an unspoken agreement the two now had. Sirius walked on eggshells and bent over backwards to give Regulus whatever he wanted, and in exchange, Regulus would allow Sirius to coddle him like was still a small child, disallowing things like wandering outside alone or touching the stove.

But Regulus had used the kitchen that morning, and Sirius had dismissed his behavior because he himself had woken up too late and Regulus must have been hungry. He had not suspected it was a sign that Regulus was slipping out of his control.

"They could have come home and seen you Regulus! Or noticed that you'd been there. They could have tracked you back here. They could have given you back to him!"

Regulus closed his eyes and nodded, trembling a little. "I just needed…a couple things. No one will notice, Sirius, I promise."

"Does Kreacher know where you are, Regulus?" asked Sirius as a horrible thought suddenly dawned on him. "Have you been talking to him regularly? Does he have any idea where you are?"

Regulus shook his head slowly, his mouth open. "No, I don't think so…he knows I'm with you. I told…I told him I was safe with you…"

Sirius let out a startled cry and struck Regulus across his face. Regulus was knocked sideways by the force of it and made no attempt to right himself.

"You idiot, Regulus," Sirius yelled. "Kreacher can't lie to our parents, and it's not exactly difficult to find my address!"

Regulus's horrified silence told Sirius that this thought hadn't occurred to him.

"What am I supposed to do if they come marching up here with a band of Ministry officials, Regulus? What if they show up when I'm not home? Am I just going to come back to find you gone one day?"

"Kreacher won't go out of his way to tell them. Maybe they won't ask…" Regulus's voice was small, and he held his hands to his head, as if Sirius might strike him again.

Sirius paced back and forth angrily, weighing his options. He felt conflicted. There was a chance there was no real danger at all, but he couldn't help but worry. Regulus had been gone for months now, but he was not dead, the enchanted tapestry in their parents' drawing room would show that clearly. Lord Voldemort might not yet see much value in chasing after Regulus, but Walburga and Orion Black certainly would. Regulus was their only true heir and their last hope for continuing their line and preserving their family name and all that nonsense. They were probably searching already, how long would it be before they might, even inadvertently, ask their house elf to help them in some way?

Sirius also felt betrayed.

"How many times have you left, Regulus?" he asked harshly. Regulus looked up at him through watery eyes.

"Just once," he promised. "Just yesterday night, while you were out with Lupin. I called for Kreacher and he came. He said Mum and Dad were out so I had him take me back just for a second. I was only there for a minute, I swear, then I had him take me right back!"

"Oh, god this is bad," Sirius moaned. He approached Regulus again. His brother eyed him warily. "Why do you do this to me, Regulus, do you enjoy watching me worry?"

Regulus shook his head vigorously. "No, Sirius," he insisted.

Sirius had calmed a little as he began to think of ways to counteract this negative turn of events. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am going to send an owl to Professor Dumbledore," he said calmly and deliberately. "Tell him I need some extra protection set up over here, maybe even a secret keeper."

"A secret keeper?" asked Regulus in amazement.

"Well it's not like I can move easily or quickly! We need to stay here, and we need to make sure we're un-findable."

But Regulus's amazement seemed to be more attached to the idea that Sirius thought he was still worth all this trouble.

Sirius's anger was fast giving way to resignation. While he stared down at Regulus, he even started to feel a little guilty. Who did he think he was, going off on his brother like that? After all Regulus put up with? All the too-long hugs and excuses to bathe together…the lingering kisses and the terms of endearment. Regulus was not dense, he knew damn well what Sirius's intent was, and he had to know that the longer Sirius spent with his brother, the further and further he went—arms sliding more and more down during hugs, kisses venturing closer and closer to the lips. And on top of it all, Sirius couldn't shake the feeling Regulus put with it all out of a resigned sense of loyalty (or fear) no matter what the younger Black insinuated or told him.

Regulus shouldered all of that with no complaint and now Sirius thought he could fly off the handle because his brother had broken one rule that Sirius had never officially put in place to begin with?

"I'll be in my room writing that letter, okay?" Sirius said softly. "And I'm sorry I hit you," he added upon noticing that the left side of Regulus's face was now a deep red.

"S'okay, I deserved it."

"No, you didn't."

"I've had worse," Regulus pointed out with a smile.

"I don't like to think about that," Sirius said as a heavy splash of guilt joined the swirling vortex that was his current emotional state. Suddenly all he could remember was the feel of pushing the knife into Regulus's belly—the soft resistance of his clothes and skin, the snagging of the serrated blade…for a moment, Sirius swore he could feel the dagger's gentle weight in his hand again and he shuddered.

"I'll be back in a minute, okay? We can… talk more then," he said. Then he left the room without glancing back. He wanted to hug his brother, apologize, kiss him, but the urgency of contacting Dumbledore overrode those feelings.

After sending off a slightly desperate note to his old Professor, Sirius's guilt was starting to attack him. How hard he had worked to keep Regulus with him, and now he had jeopardized that by yelling and hitting him.

Ah shit, had he really slapped Regulus? Sirius could just imagine all the trust they'd built up slipping quickly away. His palm and fingers started to tingle as the memory got stronger.

Sirius sighed. Ten years ago, this wouldn't have been a problem, he used to roughhouse with Regulus all the time. Once, when they had been wresting one Christmas in Uncle Alphard's living room, Sirius had slammed Regulus's face into the hearth. Sirius could remember how simple the problem had been to fix. Uncle Alphard had patched Regulus up with a spell or two, then Sirius had apologized and Regulus had responded by tackling him to the ground again. The whole incident was forgotten ten minutes later.

Why couldn't it be so easy now? Why couldn't Regulus've just hit Sirius back in retaliation like he would've when they were younger? A few years ago, Regulus wouldn't have put up with any shit from his brother or anyone else, but now he was prone to just lie there and take it. What had changed? Sirius blamed his parents, Regulus's classmates, and Voldemort, but he blamed himself more than anything.

Sirius got up from his desk and trudged back down the hall, already practicing what he would say in his head.

Regulus was sitting at the kitchen table again, and he was whispering quietly. Sirius paused and cocked an ear.

"…so scary. I can't do anything right."

Sirius frowned. He was about to dash up to Regulus, wrap his arms around him and apologize frantically when, to his immense surprise, he heard a voice respond to his brother.

"Oh, hush, he'll come 'round. No one's going to find you and certainly no one's going to send you back to him."

Regulus laughed a little. "Not what I thought you'd say. I was waiting for you to berate me for risking so much to come and get you."

The voice made a couple gentle, reassuring noises. "Just look at you, as if you need berating right now after all you've been through the past few months, poor thing."

Sirius could stand his curiosity no longer. He strode into the dining room and finally saw whom Regulus had been talking to—him.

A regal oil painting of Sirius Black sat on the table in front of Regulus, propped up slightly right next to a bag that looked like it still had something in it. Sirius recognized the picture as the one that used to grace one of his families drawing rooms; it had been a sixteenth birthday gift from his father. It had been planned that they would commission a painting for Regulus when he turned sixteen as well. Sirius wondered if they had done it before Regulus had gone to Aberforth's.

"S—Sirius?" Regulus looked up, startled. "I didn't hear you come out…I—"

"So this is what you picked up, eh?" asked Sirius, putting his hands on Regulus's shoulders and standing over him. Regulus hunkered down a little.

"Why would you want an old painting of me, anyway?" asked Sirius.

Regulus murmured something in response.

"What was that?"

"I missed him," Regulus said a little more clearly.

Sirius frowned. "How exactly do you miss a picture?"

He looked down at his painted self. The littler Sirius had folded his arms and was glaring daggers up at him. Sirius got the feeling that he would have pulled Regulus away from him had be not been trapped within his frame.

Regulus struggled to stand up around Sirius's arms. "House got really lonely when you left, and scary," he whispered. "Sirius, can I go lie down? I—I sort of have a headache."

"Oh, I hope I didn't cause it," Sirius said worryingly. He brushed Regulus's bangs back and kissed his warm forehead. "There're some painkillers in the bathroom cabinet, okay? And you can holler for me if you need anything."

Regulus nodded. He snatched his bag off the table and took off with it. He left the painting where it was, and seemed too nervous to go back for it.

"So," said Sirius-the-Painting once the two of them were alone. "Been to any good stabbings, lately?"

Sirius jumped. "Regulus told you?" he gasped.

"After a lot of encouraging, yes, he told me everything. Don't look so surprised, he always tells me everything."

Sirius folded his arms to match, feeling oddly intimidated by his painted self.

"If you have something to say, say it and do keep in mind I could easily set you alight."

The painting smiled sardonically. "By all means, go ahead, burn me to ashes, hurt Regulus even more than you already have."

The words cowed Sirius's bravery.

"I—"

"Oh do tell me what your excuse is this time, please. Is he asking for it? Did James suggest you lock him up here? Or perhaps Azkaban is merely full so they offered you some extra cash to—"

"Stop it," Sirius cried, slapping the table and making the picture wobble.

"Or perhaps," began Painting-Sirius. "There's something else in it for you?"

Sirius faltered. "What are you talking about?" he asked warily.

"Oh nothing, just that Regulus seems to have landed himself in a position of complete subservience…again," said the painting in disgust. "It's give Sirius whatever he wants or be tossed out to the wolves. What options! Personal degradation or death."

"Shut up," Sirius hissed. "You don't know what you're talking about. I love Regulus—"

"Oh yes, every inch of him."

Sirius choked. "How do—what are you…? Did Regulus…say something?"

"He didn't have to," was the smug response.

"Then how could you possibly know that I—that…" Sirius stuttered, horrified.

"Because they're my feelings, too, aren't they?" the painting insisted. Upon seeing Sirius's stupefied face, he explained. "I may be permanently stuck at sixteen, but I do still carry all our memories up until then. I remember how much of a struggle it was, trying to shut away the emotions, lying to ourselves about how it was just a passing phase, or that we were misreading our own feelings. Avoiding Regulus like it was somehow his fault, and hiding away, waiting for the sheer absence to lessen the desires."

Sirius wanted to cover his ears.

"No," he insisted. "This is new, this is something that just started, a…a result of all the sick stuff that's happened lately. I wasn't like this before!"

"Yes you were," scoffed Sirius as he leaned on his picture frame. "You tried so hard to ignore it, make yourself forget. And for a while there…I imagine you did. But no, this isn't the result of whatever horrors you like to imagine you've seen during the war. You were always this fucked up."

"No, I…"

"When Regulus came to see me, it was shortly after you left. He was in tears, and didn't even understand why. The two of you hadn't been close for years, so the strength of his devastation was almost shocking. I threw myself into befriending him, thinking I could make up for it. After all, what harm could I pose now? I was a goddamn oil painting. It wasn't like I could scar him, so long as I kept my fucking mouth shut."

Sirius remembered Regulus's voice as he'd spoken about missing the painting. "You must have been a good friend to him," he admitted.

"Maybe, maybe not. I certainly have some regrets about encouraging him to talk with you. Anyway, for the last few months there, I don't think he spoke to anyone but me. After Father died he was so broken up, that—"

"What?" Sirius demanded. "Dead?"

Sirius stared up at himself solemnly. "Yes," he said simply. "Interesting. Regulus said you weren't at the funeral. I assumed you were merely being an asshole. I didn't imagine you were unaware."

Sirius felt sick. "I didn't see anything in the paper."

"Of course not, as if Walburga would want to admit that her oldest son was A.W.O.L. and her husband dead as well! Imagine the pressure that would have fallen to Regulus. Things were to be kept relatively quiet until the family was more stable, but a letter was sent to notify you."

"As if I'd've been reading anything sent to me from home," Sirius said. "Fuck, I've been talking like they're both still at home there waiting. Regulus never corrected me…"

"Probably wanted to avoid a scene."

"God he must think I'm such an ass, talking about Dad like he's still around. Regulus was always bizarrely attached to our father, despite the regular abuse. He was terribly upset when it happened, then?"

"Upset yes. We talked about it once. Turns out he'd been beating himself up over the vague sense of relief that came with Father's death. He couldn't hurt him anymore, you see, and Regulus was feeling terrible about his own elation."

Sirius's stomach churned. He was filled with the sudden urge to hold his brother.

"I can't believe he didn't tell me…"

"Sounds like he doesn't trust you," said the painted Sirius idly, turning his hand about to examine his own nails.

Sirius bristled, but couldn't truthfully deny the statement. Did Regulus trust him? He had absolutely no reason to.

"Although, it's not as if it matters," continued the painting, gazing off at the ceiling. "You've still got him trapped here, and trust or not trust, the sex'll still be good."

Sirius took a sudden step back. "No!" he yelled. "I haven't—"

"Oh of course you haven't," scoffed the painting sarcastically. "In all these months you'd never. I must admit to myself that I harbor a slight bit of jealousy. How often I've wanted to be with him, even just to hold him, let alone…but here you are…"

"I haven't touched him," Sirius insisted venomously.

"I do not for an instant believe you."

"Listen to me—"

The painting cut him off. "The least you could do, Sirius, is make him feel loved in the slightest. If you're going to take advantage of him, you could at least not beat him as well."

"No, you don't understand, I was just—"

"Just what?" came the bitter reply. "I saw his face, are you going to tell me he did that to himself? No wait, maybe he fell…"

"I didn't mean to," said Sirius in a small voice. A vision of Regulus's face slid into his mind and he felt his mouth go dry as he remembered the bruise forming on Regulus's face. How had one slap caused so much damage? Regulus's body couldn't still be that weak, could it?

"We never had the best of temper control, did we? Too much like Mother…"

"Don't you ever say that!" Sirius said loudly. "Nothing like her…"

"As you wish," the painting murmured. "Just that…an explosive temper, paranoid hatred of anyone who doesn't share your ideals, fucking someone you don't love…sounds a lot like Mother to me."

"I love Regulus," Sirius growled. "And I would never betray his trust like that."

"If you're not lying, I'll be impressed," said the painted Sirius.

"Regulus loves me, too," said Sirius quietly.

"He loves the idea of you, maybe. He loves the big brother he remembers from his early childhood, but don't flatter yourself into thinking there's anything else there, and certainly not—"

"Sometimes," Sirius cut him off. "Sometimes he says things, or acts like maybe he wants—"

"He's lying."

"What?" asked Sirius.

"He's lying, acting, trying to please you so you won't turn him over to your friends."

"Maybe he's not…"

"Then why don't you ask him?" asked the painting smugly.

Sirius sighed. "Because I'm afraid, and you know it," Sirius admitted.

"It's hard to never get something you want so badly. Sirius…you're crying."

"Huh?" Sirius straightened up and wiped at his face. "I didn't realize…"

"Yeah, well, listen to me carefully. This is the safest place for Regulus to be right now, and I expect you to keep him here, safe. I don't want you touching him unless he starts it, I don't want you laying a hand on him ever again."

Sirius glared. "You're stating the obvious."

"Maybe so, but consider yourself warned."

"Sirius," said Sirius. "I'll let you stay here, because it obviously means a lot to Reg, but I'm going to ask you not to talk shit to him about me."

"Then don't give me any reason to. And I want you to put up some other paintings in the living room and kitchen, so I can go where I like."

"Fair enough," Sirius sighed. A moment later, he added, "Would you mind…telling me a little bit more about what went on after I left?"

It was near dark by the time Sirius looked away from the painting, breaking off their conversation, and realized he had not seen hide nor hair of Regulus for hours.

"Hold on a second," he said, standing up, "I need to check on—Regulus!"

Regulus had meandered into the entryway to the kitchen, holding a rolled canvas in his arms and looking sheepish.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"You don't need to ask," said Sirius softly and Regulus entered the room.

"What have you got there, Reg?"

Regulus bit his lip. "Been working on it for a while, but it got left at home, along with my wand and so I couldn't finish it…" shyly, he held out the canvas. Sirius took it and unrolled it.

There in front of him was a spot-on representation of his younger brother, right down to his sharp, grey eyes and crow-black hair. This Regulus stood with a bit more confidence, though, and wasn't so defeated or sickly as the real Regulus who stood by the table. This was a painting of Regulus as he should look.

The painting blinked up at Sirius dolefully from where he stood against the backdrop of one of Grimmauld Places living rooms, illuminated by the sun streaming in the ceiling-high windows behind him. Regulus had enchanted his painting.

"What's going on?" asked the painted Sirius from out his frame. The angle at which he sat prevented him from seeing.

Regulus approached him and picked him up. He nudged his head, indicating that Sirius should follow him. Sirius picked up the Regulus painting and followed his brother to their bedroom, where Regulus set about fixing Sirius to the wall to the left of the desk.

"Do you have any extra frames?" asked Regulus, but Sirius was already drawing his wand to make one. They left the bedroom and Sirius helped Regulus affix the portrait of himself to the wall in the living room.

"Sirius!" Regulus called towards the bedroom. "Come out here!"

There was a brief pause, as though the painted Sirius was a little wary of trying to leave his frame, not knowing if there were any other paintings nearby, but eventually he appeared alongside Regulus in the living room.

"I've made you a friend," said Regulus with a smile. "So you wouldn't be so lonely anymore. Took almost a year, what with the break where I couldn't get home to work on it at all, but…"

Sirius approached the painted Regulus cautiously, looking him carefully up and down, seeming afraid to touch him and shooting occasional glances at the real Regulus.

"It's a little outdated now," said Regulus. "Since I'll be seventeen in a few days, but this way the portraits'll match, like they were always supposed to."

"I think it's perfect, Regulus," said Sirius as he wrapped his arms around his brother and they stared into the painting. "Don't you think so, Sirius?"

The portrait nodded once, a grateful smile on his face before turning to his painted brother.

The oil-paint Regulus had not spoken yet, but he had a smug, almost aristocratic grin to his face. With confidence, he looped an arm over his brother's shoulder.

"Stop staring at me like we're in a museum, Siri," he scolded.

Both Siriuses laughed.

"Hey you two giants," said Sirius while Regulus nuzzled into him, almost knocking him against their frame. "Why don't you let us be for a while. Let us…catch up."

"All right," said Sirius. "You're the boss."

"Take Regulus out to dinner or something," suggested Sirius. "Someplace muggle where you won't be in danger."

"Good idea."

Sirius helped Regulus into his jacket and the two of them headed out the door. Sirius held an elated feeling in his heart. The apartment that sat behind them as they waited by the road for the bus suddenly felt a lot more like home. Sirius got the idea that that feeling would settle on any building that housed those two paintings.

"Thank you," he murmured against Regulus's cheek. "You know just how to make everything all right."

"Yes, well, happy birthday, Sirius."

Sirius wound their fingers together.

"I didn't think I deserved you remembering," he said with a warm smile.

The bus turned the corner, crunching small rocks that had rolled into the road and squeaking slightly as it ground to a halt in front of them.

"I'd never forget you," Regulus said, and they boarded.

**Author's Note:**

> Marked as complete, but I've several more chapters that I wrote just for the hell of it. I'll get around to posting those sometime.


End file.
